


A Multi-Universal Constant

by sapphire_child



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Bickering, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel in a Female Vessel, Castiel is an asshole, Coda, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean-Centric, Episode Tag, Eye Sex, F/M, Fluff, Grieving Castiel, Grieving Dean, Hugs, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Parallel Universes, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Post-Season/Series 12, Season/Series 13, Season/Series 13 Speculation, Slow Dancing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: ...or five times that Dean Winchester found a parallel version of Cas while they were hunting for the universe where Mary got trapped in with Lucifer and what happened when they finally got home.





	A Multi-Universal Constant

**Author's Note:**

> _You have suffered enough_  
>  And warred with yourself  
> It's time that you won

**1\. He hit me (and it felt like a kiss)**

Unsurprisingly, it turns out that opening rifts to hop between dimensions is kind of a pain in the ass – especially when the first time you did it was an accident. There’s no roadmap that leads back to Apocalypse-now-universe, so it takes a fair few tries for Dean and Sam to break through into a universe that might help them figure out which one their mom is in – thanks in no small part to Jack who is acting as their emergency beacon back home.

Turns out the kid has massive, cosmic powers…and not a great amount of an idea as to how to use them. But he did come up with the bright idea that using him as their anchor to their own universe might help them get home again, regardless of how many universes they have to smash through to find Mary.

They weren’t exactly expecting to find her on the first try, but then the more jumps they make, the more they start running into people who are long dead in their own universe. This is fine enough when they’re stumbling across people who have been dead for a while – Frank Devereaux pops up more than once, along with Jo and Ellen, Bobby, Ash, even Pastor Jim.

Charlie is a bit harder to stomach – for both of them. For that matter, so is the parallel version of their dad – though the John they meet is a civilian, not a hunter. He looks pretty good for a guy pushing sixty, happily living out his retirement with a swarm of grandkids and Mary’s ashes nestled quietly on the mantel of the family home in Lawrence.

Yet in all the places they’ve travelled, they haven’t managed to find Cas. There were whispers, mentions of him in a few of the worlds they’d fallen into. But in a dozen or more alternate universes they haven’t run into any parallel versions of him.

Running into a parallel version of Charlie after being responsible for her ending up dead in a bathtub in their universe was pretty much one of the most awkward and painful experiences in their first set of jumps.

But finding Cas?

No matter how much Dean may have tried to talk himself into believing he would be fine if they ran into a parallel Cas – well, turns out he was even more woefully underprepared than he could have ever envisioned.

Cas hasn’t just got the old coat, he’s also got the stupid backwards tie and the squinty frown and the madly ruffled hair and god, _god_ he thought he’d never see this idiot angel again and Dean just can’t help himself.

“Cas…” His voice cracks when he steps forward, instinctively reaching out.

He feels more than hears Sam rush forward to shadow him, barely getting to voice a warning, “Dean…” before the punch lands.

The force isn’t really what knocks him back, it’s the shock. Dean reels, hand flying to a lip that is most definitely split and dripping blood. Sam grabs him and tries to stop him from falling completely on his ass but it’s a near thing.

Dazed from the punch, sagging in his brother’s arms, Dean looks up helplessly at the angel.

Cas looks _furious._

“If you think I’ll assist you in your mission.” He growls. “Then you are sorely mistaken.”

It’s all he says to them before he flies, his wings rending the air like invisible lightning.

There is a long, tense silence. The air reeks of ozone and Dean tries to pant his way back to a somewhat regular heartbeat.

“Man.” he manages weakly. “Dudes a real dick in this universe huh?”

He lets Sam prop him up and briefly inspect his lip, but he can’t deal with the scrutiny – the pity on his brother’s face. Grunting in annoyance, he waves him off.

“You alright?” Sam asks, all soft and concerned.

He’s very obviously not asking about the cut lip.

Dean tries to grin, winces at the pull of torn skin and grimaces instead. “I’ve had worse.” He offers glibly.

Sam doesn’t look convinced but he lets it go. Dean is kind of stupidly grateful. He’s not entirely sure he wants to think about the way he practically ran into Cas’ arms like some swooning romantic heroine anytime soon.

It’s fine. He’s still grieving, that’s all. He just has to mentally prepare himself better for the fact that they might run into parallel versions of Cas that aren’t _their_ Cas. It’s fine. He can do that. After all, he’s lost Cas before and he coped then. Right? And besides, even if they do ever make it home Cas might just stay dead there anyway. Hell, not like Chuck is around to resurrect the guy again.

He’s fine. He can deal. Find mom, bring her home again, _then_ deal with losing Cas. For real this time.

He can do this.

_If he didn't care for me_  
_I could have never made him mad_  
 _But he hit me_

_And I was glad_

  **2.** **Stranger with the face of a man I loved**

Dean’s not expecting the second time to be worse than the first.

It is. It’s _so_ much worse.

A punch to the face is a language that Dean understands all too well. Honestly, he’s not great at expressing his emotions at the best of times – having the crap kicked out of him honestly speaks a lot more to his sensibilities. Case in point, the cut on his lip is almost healed when they next run into Cas.

A Cas that doesn’t know them at all.

In some bizarre twist of happenstance, he still wound up in Jimmy’s body. When Sam wonders about the odds of him choosing the same vessel in other timelines Cas drones on for a while about bloodlines and faith and vessel suitability.

Dean doesn’t really listen. He’s too busy trying not to get too attached because dammit he promised himself that he wouldn’t _do_ this to himself. His Cas is dead and gone. Well and truly. And this Cas? He looks at Dean, at Sam, and there’s no spark of recognition. There’s no warmth or frustrated ire or any of the other emotions that Dean misses seeing on his best friend’s face. Instead there’s a weird sort of lukewarm pleasantness with a touch of that angelic stick-in-the-ass uppity-ness he had in the early days of the apocalypse.

It’s almost worse than being punched in the face.

Scratch that – it _is_ worse than being punched in the face.

Oh he helps them out readily enough, says he’s been off fighting some big celestial battle on various planes of existence and it’s nice to get a break to work on an interdimensional transit puzzle. He helps them hone the Enochian spell work they’ve been using as part of their plan to break through into other universes – something about using some of their limited store of Jack’s grace to triangulate in on Mary and Lucifer’s wavelengths because they’ll stick out like a pimple on a pumpkin what with being in the wrong universe and all. It makes Dean’s head hurt and Sam’s nerd face light up like a Christmas tree.

It’s so close to being right and yet it’s so unsettlingly _wrong._

When they ready themselves to hop across to the next dimension, Castiel offers them both a strong handshake and the very best of luck. But then, before they can leave, he does something that neither of them were expecting.

He reaches out a hand to Dean’s face then hesitates, nodding down at the partially healed cut on his lip.

“May I?”

Dry mouthed, Dean nods and then grits his teeth as Cas (not his Cas, not _their_ Cas) presses two careful fingers to his forehead and knits him back together with a short burst of grace.

Dean can’t quite meet Cas’ eyes when he thanks him, and when they jump through to the next dimension, Dean has to forcibly stop himself from touching his newly healed lip. It tingles for about a half hour before the sensation of Cas’ grace diminishes which is kind of new and weird, but nice. Maybe angel grace worked slightly differently in that universe, or maybe it’s reacting to their universe hopping.

If Sam notices Dean worrying his lower lip, he doesn’t say anything. And Dean? He feels kind of comforted now that he’s got some space. Cas has forgotten things before – hell, he’s forgotten everything about himself more than once. But even in a world where Dean and Sam were practically strangers to him, there are apparently some things that are steadfast, constant and unwavering.

He takes some small comfort in that.

_I try to remember_   
_And the rest of the time_   
_I try to forget_   
_The times he lied and lied_   
_Before he just left me here_

**3\. Come let me love you / and then / colour me in**

The next time they find a parallel version of Cas he’s painfully human, living it up in the Men of Letters bunker with his own Dean and Sam. After the usual third degree (they’ve met parallel Dean and Sam’s enough times now that they’re getting pretty good at convincing themselves about what their mission is and why they should help themselves) they get down to brass tacks and hit the library on the off chance that this universe somehow has different or better intel than theirs.

It hurts a lot more than Dean would care to admit, seeing the three of them researching in the library, making hasty sandwiches for their unexpected guests and bickering about whose turn it is to clean the dishes. And Cas looks so goddamn normal that it’s just about killing him. His jeans are worn and his flannel is in need of some pretty serious mending and his ever-present stubble is well on its way to becoming a proper beard.

It’s kind of a good look for him.

Dean is so preoccupied with watching him that it takes the better part of a day to realise that something weird seems to be going on with the other Dean and Cas. Like, has Cas just completely lost _all_ sense of personal space now that he’s human? Every time Dean looks up they seem to be all up in each other’s space. The other him must’ve touched Cas on the shoulder half a dozen times in the space of an afternoon. And they keep staring at each other in this kind of weird, nauseatingly intense way.

Neither Sam says anything about it (though he catches the other Sam rolling his eyes a few times) so he waits until their other selves are caught up in an argument about spell ingredients and then reaches out to grab his Sam’s sleeve.

“Hey.” He says lowly, keeping half an eye on the others. The other Dean and Cas are bickering and their Sam is trying to mediate to no avail. “You notice something weird about Cas and me? Other me?”

Sam glances over, raises his brows thoughtfully and then shakes his head.

“That’s pretty much what you guys look like all the time.” Sam says, then winces. “You know what I mean.”

“Cas and I never looked at each other like _that_.”

Sam shoots him a long-suffering look. “Dude.”

“We didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” other Sam chimes in.

“Nothing.” Dean hastens to answer, but before he can move the conversation along, his Sam jumps in again.

“My Dean thinks that all the eye sex and ‘personal space, what personal space?’ thing is weird.” Sam says, making a broad gesture between the two of them. Dean is truly, properly mortified now and he’s in the process of spluttering out some sort of response when the other Dean starts smirking. Cas just shoots him a long-suffering bitch face and other Sam sighs heavily in response.

“Are they just as dumb and infuriating in your universe too?” he asks.

Sam’s jaw doesn’t quite drop but Dean knows him well enough – it’s a close thing. He glances between their doppelgangers and then shoots a sideways glance at Dean who is _so_ confused by this whole interaction. He’s about to try and interject again when Sam fixes other Sam with a look of pleading relief.

“Worse.” He blurts, looking a little dazed. “I think.”

Other Sam offers him a consoling shoulder pat. Other Dean is still smirking, and even Cas looks a little bemused now.

“Well, I’m not sure which way is worse yet.” Other Sam commiserates. “So – good luck regardless I guess?”

Dean swivels his gaze from face to face, still not a hundred percent on what the hell is going on. Seemingly taking pity on him, other Dean extricates himself from Cas’ personal space and drawls out an, “Alright. Why don’t I uh, go check our potion supplies? And y’all can continue this stimulating conversation without me.”

He saunters out of the room, pausing only to slap Cas very obviously on the ass. Cas narrows his eyes in response, other Sam is honest to god _giggling_ and then _his_ Sam starts to join in too – albeit a little hysterically.

“What.” Dean blurts. “The actual…”

“I need a drink.” Sam abruptly stands and makes for the kitchen. Other Sam follows with a completely unapologetic shrug and Dean is left alone with Cas.

Cas who is human. Cas who just had his ass slapped by his Dean and didn’t even flinch. Like this is _normal_ for them.

Cas squints at him, considering. When Dean says nothing he clears his throat and offers a quizzical, almost bashful look.

“I’m guessing you haven’t ‘gotten together’ with me in your universe?”

The penny drops.

“Uh. No?” Dean squeaks. “I’m not gay.” Then, “Also you’re kinda…dead.”

He’d thought that saying it out loud would be hard. That telling a parallel version of Cas particularly, would be even harder. He wasn’t expecting to blurt it out in a moment of sheer panic. His hands sweat and Cas considers him for a long moment before slowly making his way over.

Dean was standing when this whole debacle began, thank Chuck, so their proximity isn’t as awkward and weird as it could have been if he’d been sitting. But Cas is still standing very close and smells distractingly of Dean’s own brand of deodorant and honestly at this point Dean has bypassed fight and fight and gone straight to frozen in terror.

For a thrilling (horrifying) second he thinks Cas might kiss him. He’s not sure how he’d react to that but he’s not sure it’d be great. Thankfully, Cas opens his arms instead and folds Dean into his embrace like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

To him it probably is.

Dean closes his eyes, lets him. Listens to Cas murmur an apology for his loss and tries his best to relax. But it doesn’t matter how many shaky breaths he takes, he still can’t help a tiny kernel of imagination whispering that if his Cas came home someday then it might just go something kinda like this.

_Well I tried to control it_  
 _And cover it up_  
 _I reached out to console it_  
 _It was never enough_  
 _Never enough…_  
  
_So I tried to forget it_  
 _That was all part of the show_  
 _Told myself I’d regret it_  
 _But what do I know?_

  

**4.** **Lived in Bars**

Dean spends the next few dimension hops trying his best to forget the way human Cas felt pressed up against him. It’s hard though, especially when they seem to be running into a different version of him almost every other jump now. Sometimes he’s using Jimmy as his meatsuit, very often he’s in someone else entirely – including one bizarre instance where he’s rooming with Meg in her vessel.

Each meeting is no less weird, but it’s getting to the point where they’ve run into that many iterations of Cas now that the ache of loss is starting to dull a little. It’s sort of…comforting? In a weird, messed up kind of way. Even if he never gets his Cas back again, Dean’s been allowed all of this extra time with him. Kind of.

And then the multiverse decides to turn on a dime and throws a curveball that Dean wasn’t expecting.

It’s a universe a lot like their own – like a lot of them have been. They’ve managed to find Cas and all three of them have gone to a bar hunting for some intel on how to break through to the right universe. It’s just some seedy little crap hole in the back of beyond but there’s supposedly some guy here who has info that might be helpful. The sticking point is that _apparently_ he’s not going to offer it up easy so they decide that they’re going to try eavesdrop on this dude first without him getting wind of what they’re up to and goddammit all to hell Dean is _tired_ of this interdimensional travel crap. He just wants to get to that crappy universe where his mom is and bring her home. Every hole they rip between worlds is probably doing more damage than good at this point but they’ve come too far now to call it quits and ain’t that just the story of their goddamn lives?

But they’re in a bar, and this guy has annoyingly situated himself away from the pool tables and as Dean’s brain works through his options he begins to think that maybe his experiences in the universe where he and Cas were legit boning each other might not end up being as weird as this one.

Cas? Is in a female vessel.

So help him – a kindofmaybesortaslightly hot female vessel.

And okay, so maybe it’s definitely a bit weird having your best friend suddenly be a good-looking chick. But having a lady on your team? Doesn’t come without a few social advantages in a situation like this.

“Sam, put number 23 on the jukebox. Cas, you’re with me.”

Once Dean has given the command he does his best to ignore Cas’ splutters and Sam’s gaping fish mouth and just get his ass moving before he loses his damn nerve. Cas’ hand is surprisingly warm in his, and Dean keeps on tugging at it until they’re in a prime spot on the dancefloor. The previous song is just winding up and Dean turns to Cas and positions the two of them with a surprising amount of ease considering this is something that he pretty much _never_ damn well does.

Cas gazes up at him quizzically as Aerosmith starts blasting across the bar. Grey eyes this time. Dean’s breath hitches in this stupid way as he slips a hand to the small of Cas’ back.  There’s no tie, but there _is_ a tailored blazer. The scratch of cheap polyester cotton is weirdly comforting – though it doesn’t quite make up for the slender span of waist Dean is palming, or the terrifyingly small fingers that are interlaced with his.

From the other side of the bar Sam shoots him a very obvious bitch face which Dean responds to with a glare of his own before working on manoeuvring them closer to their mark. Cas is stiff as a damn board, treading on Dean’s toes with every other awkward shuffle. There’s a deep frown line dividing dark, fine brows and an unnatural tightness to smooth cheeks and this is _weird_ Dean thinks. So goddamned weird. They do an awkward little spin, tangle and untangle, and then wind up more or less in each other’s arms. A pointed chin jabs purposely into Dean’s shoulder and he leans his ear down, sighing.

“ _Dean_.” Cas says, mouth close to Dean’s ear and yeah the vocal cords might be working at a higher pitch right now, but the undertone of gravel is still there. Dean works to suppress a shiver at the breath ghosting across the shell of his ear. “What exactly are we doing?”

“We’re eavesdropping.” Dean mutters back. He’s aiming for cranky because honestly, he’s not exactly feeling all that chill right now, with his face pressing into long dark hair that frankly smells kind of amazing and wow, that’s totally not a creepy thought to have about your best friend… “But we’re trying to make it look like we’re not so can you maybe relax a bit?”

“I _am_ relaxed.” Is the mutinous return and Dean rolls his eyes. Seems Cas is a sulky, stubborn son of a bitch regardless of vessel.

“Just…” Dean sighs. “Try to pretend like you’re having fun? Loosen up a bit.”

He demonstrates by giving Cas’ shoulder a gentle little shake. To anyone watching it probably looks like a friendly little wiggle but the way Cas stiffens even further (how is that even _possible?_ ) has Dean letting out an annoyed huff.

“I’m not sure which part of this is supposed to be _fun_.” Is Cas’s arch response. Dean doesn’t answer, just keeps determinedly swaying the two of them from side to side until Cas begins to relax, and eventually to concede defeat with a muttered, “I will _try_ to ‘loosen up’.”

Thankfully – eventually – they manage to get the intel. Sam goes off to do some more research and Cas and Dean find another bar with better drinks because what the hell else are they going to do to kill time apart from make small talk trying to figure out where their timelines diverge?

It’s become almost a game that they play when they find themselves stuck in a parallel world for a slightly longer stretch of time. Some of the points of divergence have been obvious, others not so much. This time around they make it all the way to the end of the apocalypse before they finally hit on it.

“So you’re saying that in your universe...?”

“Yeah, we slammed Lucifer in the cage and then…?”

“It seems like the most logical point of digression.” Cas nods, eyes narrowing in thought. “In this instance I managed to retrieve Sam from hell but his mind, his soul…they were too damaged for me to piece back together. I took him to heaven where he could be at peace.”

“Huh.” Dean considers this for a moment, toying with a glass which is more ice than whiskey. “And I was…cool with that?”

Cas gives a small smile. “You were more concerned with helping me win the civil war in heaven.”

Dean double takes at that. “Are you telling me we took down _Raphael_? Together? For real?”

“Yes.” Cas says simply. “You and I fought, side by side. We defeated Raphael but my vessel…Jimmy’s body was obliterated. My grace survived and I took on this vessel.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why would you need to take a new vessel?” Dean clarifies. “I mean, what, God just decided to stop cloning Jimmy’s likeness for you?”

It’s a question asked out of genuine curiosity but Cas doesn’t seem to want to answer which…Dean’s kind of surprised about. He’s never talked much to his Cas about the human face he wore, but over time Jimmy’s visage has become so familiar that it’s kinda hard to separate the two. That said, the more versions of Cas he’s met the more Dean is realising that he finds him pretty easy to read.

The woman he’s wearing now for example has a distinctive, pinched expression that seems to come out when Cas is anxious or stressed. It’s a familiar expression, albeit on a new face.

Recognising the discomfort, Dean tries a slightly softer approach. Coaxes gently, “Cas?”

There’s a long pause. Thin, knobbly fingers wipe down non-existent condensation on a high ball glass of soda water and ice. Dean watches and waits.

“After Raphael.” Cas says eventually, reluctantly. “You went back home to Lisa and Ben. All the other angels returned to heaven to rebuild. They asked me to lead, and for a time I tried.”

Dean tries his best to wait patiently before attempting to nudge the conversation along but honestly, the suspense is kind of killing him. “And?” he demands. “What happened?”

Cas looks – there’s no other word for it – flustered. “I…well I came back to Earth.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And then…I stayed.”

Cas pauses nervously as that sinks in, but meets Dean’s gaze unflinchingly when they lock eyes over his mostly empty glass. They might not be the familiar bright blue of Jimmy’s anymore, but the intense, slightly creepy stare is another physical tic that seems to manifest regardless of vessel. Dean swallows under Cas’ hard stare. He feels like there’s something here that he’s missed, something important that Cas is trying to say without saying it and Dean is just too dumb to put the pieces together. He clears his throat and is on the verge of feebly nudging the conversation along again when Cas fills the silence instead.

“I came back to earth.” Cas says, all benevolent and soft. “So I could ensure you were safe from my brothers and sisters. Forever.”

Dean nearly drops his glass then redoubles his grip so quickly that he’s surprised the damn thing doesn’t shatter. He clears his throat a couple times, tries his best to hold Cas’ stare but honestly it’s kind of hard to considering _that_ bombshell.

_Forever._

“Does he…” Dean begins, takes a healthy slug of what remains of his drink and then corrects himself. “I mean, do _I_ know about this? This universe me?”

Cas finally breaks eye contact and Dean releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“No. Or at least, I’ve had little to no contact with him since my return to heaven.” Cas looks down, frowns. “I get the sense that he’s never quite forgiven me for being unable to fix Sam and bring him home.”

Dean barks out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Well in my world Sam getting resurrected turned out pretty messy for everyone. And hey, now we’re ripping apart the universe to try and get mom back so…I guess at least this me let sleeping dogs lie, you know?”

Cas continues to frown uncomfortably and so Dean clears his throat and tries to deflect the conversation into new territory that might hopefully be a little less contentious.

“I ask you a question?”

Cas turns to him instantly, so quietly earnest that it hurts. “Of course.”

“You said you’re watching over him – other me.” When Cas nods in affirmation, Dean presses on. “Am I happy? Or at least…I dunno. Content?”

The look that flits across Cas’ face is smoothed over so quickly that Dean isn’t even sure he saw it at all.

“He…” Cas starts and then hesitates, before trying again. “You – my you? I don’t know if he’ll ever be truly happy. At least not until he can join Sam in heaven. He doesn’t hunt anymore. He passes any cases that come his way along to whoever he can. I think…he definitely misses it from time to time but…he’s made a good life for himself. Some semblance of a family. For now, at least,” Cas concludes. “I think he might be doing more or less okay.”

A pretty potent cocktail of emotions hits Dean at the admission. Relief. Grief. A bit of petty jealousy. But mostly he’s still floored – just totally floored at the sheer devotion of Cas. Not only taking on a new vessel, but then refusing to go back to heaven just so he can watch over a jerky parallel universe of Dean and keep him out of harm’s way so he can live a damn apple pie life with Lisa and Ben?

“You really love him.” Dean blurts in realisation. Thinks, _me. You really love me._

Cas looks at him like he’s said something egregiously stupid. Maybe he has.

“Of course.”

_There's nothing like living in a bottle_   
_And nothing like ending it all for the world_   
_We're so glad you have come back_

  **5. I loved and I loved and I lost you. And it hurts like hell.**

The female version of Cas is the last one they see for a while. Their intel from the dude in the bar was good enough that they seem to have course corrected in a pretty big way. Soon enough they’re hitting on world after world where the apocalypse is in full swing in one form or another.

They find the last Cas they’ll meet in one of these worlds. Helpfully they get spat out right next to a group of freedom fighters who are out on a supply run who turn out to be part of a dwindling group of angels and humans under the leadership of – you guessed it, this universe’s Castiel. They’re pretty proud of the efforts they’re putting into trying to keep a stopper in the apocalypse, but it becomes obvious all too quickly to Sam and Dean that they’re all but screwed.

This universe’s Cas might not be a drug addled mess like he was in the future Zachariah sent Dean to once upon a nightmare ago, but he sure as hell ain’t a sparkling beacon of hope either. When they’d first been brought to meet him, Dean had automatically stepped forward to introduce himself and Cas had visibly flinched back, all but snarling in disgust at the hand that had been offered.

“I know who you are.” He had growled.

It wasn’t long before Dean and Sam discovered that this Cas wasn’t just abrupt and abrasive for the sake of it. He’s angry pretty much all the time, and savagely, savagely bitter. He’s also unforgiving and brutal towards his troops and totally stone cold with Sam and Dean despite agreeing to help them. In addition, he refuses to make any kind of physical contact with the two of them, barely meets their gaze, and is prone to fly into a rage if either of them dares to contradict him.

The tension in the camp is palpable, the kind of crackling electricity that you only get around a bunch of scared, pissed off angels. Dean would crack a joke about Cas having a stick up his ass if he wasn’t legitimately scared that the guy might just smite him on the spot. He’ll talk to Sam, albeit grudgingly, but he seems to go out of his way to avoid or just ignore Dean. When he does bother to acknowledge him, Cas is unfailingly nasty. Dean normally wouldn’t be phased by this. He and his Cas had a long history of bickering with each other, hell they’d beaten the snot out of each other more times than he can remember. But in comparison to the previous Cas they were working with?

It had taken Sam almost a week to rejig their spell work, and in that time Dean had gotten pretty comfortable with Cas’ new vessel. So much so that right before they moved on he had actually planted an absent smooch on Cas’ cheek as they said goodbye. Not that he’d planned it or anything. It just kind of…happened. So sue him. Cas obviously hadn’t been expecting it, judging by the startled expression that the gesture elicited. Sam had been similarly surprised. His eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and Dean had blushed like a damn teenager and tried to play it off.

Thankfully this Cas, asshole though he is, has some useful attributes. He’s fully juiced up, so when he isn’t warding off attacks from rogue angels and demons and keeping his camp members alive he spends the majority of his time working on the spells they’ve been using to blast them from universe to universe.

They’re starting to run dangerously low on the tiny vial of Nephilim grace gifted to them by Jack – a powerful spell ingredient for their universe hopping, and also a key component of their ticket home. Regardless, Cas is confident that he can work with what they have. He’s crazy good at applied Enochian spell work – to the point where he’s admitted that he reckons he can tear a rip straight through to the universe they’ve been searching for as soon as he has the final few ingredients needed to refine it.

For all of his bitching and snarking, he’s still an incredibly useful ally. He puts together a task force of his best soldiers – angel and human alike – to help him find the final, few obscure spell items that they still need.

When the news comes that he’s returned alone with his vessel practically torn to shreds Dean isn’t expecting to feel his heart stop in his chest the way it did when his Cas got skewered by Lucifer. In all the parallel worlds they’ve been in, he’s not had to watch Cas die again. There’s been a few where he was already dead, sure. But this?

It’s too much.

Dean hides behind one of the camp buildings and vomits for half an hour until he’s down to bile. Then for good measure, he starts dry retching. He’s weak on his feet when Sam finally seeks him out.

Dean is so attuned to the sounds of his brother’s footfalls he doesn’t even bother turning around to confirm that its him. “How is he?” he husks out, listing uselessly against the wall.

He hears Sam shift slightly behind him. “Not great.” He admits softly. Dean nods and tries to scrub the taste of sick off his lips as his broter continues. “He’s pretty messed up. A few of the other angels are trying to heal him but his vessel is rejecting their grace. They think maybe he’s been hit by some kind of hybrid angel killing weapon or spell they haven’t seen before.”

There is a long pause. Finally – quietly – Sam adds, “He got the ingredients. All of them.”

Dean chews this information over. Swallows down another round of nausea and then nods.

“S’pose I’d better say thanks.” He mumbles, halfway between quietly hysterical and totally nonsensical.

Sam watches him go in silence.

Cas is little more than a bloody, sweat soaked mess of flesh and Dean has to force down another wave of intense nausea before he can bring himself to approach. The camp medics – angel and human alike – had been all too happy to step out of the room. Dean gets the sense that Cas may have lashed out at a few of them if their slightly hysterical demeanours and minor to moderate injuries is any indication.

He seems pretty much unconscious now though, his skin ashen. Dean sits next to him, closer than he’s dared up till now. If it weren’t for the laboured breathing he’d have thought the guy was dead. His chest is basically mincemeat and there’s wicked gashes practically everywhere else. Some are still bleeding sluggishly, even though his grace still seems to be struggling to try and knit him back together.

When Dean touches a tentative hand to Cas’ shoulder he isn’t expecting the guy to rear up, letting loose an inhuman roar that all but rattles the windows. Against all of his better instincts, Dean grabs hold of Cas to try and settle him down – but it only seems to incense him further. He bucks wildly, probably reopening a few half-healed gashes and it isn’t until Dean yells out his name that Cas finally collapses back, wheezing in pain. Dean hovers, not quite touching him in case he goes postal again. Cas just pants, eyes wide and glassy. And for the first time since they got here, they’re fixed completely on Dean.

It takes a couple of seconds for Dean to realise that Cas is crying. His body trembles with suppressed sobs that could just be shock tremors, and there are tears leaking into the blood and muck at his temples, pooling and spilling over his lower lids.

It could just be from the physical pain.

Could be.

“Cas…” Dean goes to touch him again and Cas flinches hard, immediately hissing in pain.

“Don’t.” Cas rasps. He won’t meet Dean’s gaze. “Please.”

Dean waits until the shudders and sobs subside some. Cas almost seems peaceful when he reaches out his hand again. He still flinches, but at least this time he doesn’t pull away or freak out.

Dean takes that as a win.

“Man,” he says miserably. “What the hell happened to you?”

“They believe I was hit by a combination of hybrid spell-work and weaponry.” Cas murmurs, exhausted. “My grace is currently attempting to…”

“I didn’t mean _this_.” Dean interrupts testily, gesturing at all of the gore. “I meant _you_. I mean, you gotta know that you’re messed up in the head right? You’re more pissed off than I ever saw ‘my’ you – and that’s sayin’ something. Sam I turn up on your doorstep in the middle of the apocalypse and you won’t even look me in the eye. But you’ll go out and come back looking like a Wendigo’s chew toy so you can get spell ingredients for us?”

Cas is silent in response, throat working and jaw clenched. He’s crying again, albeit silently now and Dean waits patiently for an answer – hand still pressed to Cas’ shoulder. It’s one of the few places his flesh hasn’t been shredded to within an inch of his life. Minutes tick past, Cas studiously not looking at him. But then finally he shudders out a sigh, reaching up to cover over Dean’s hand with his own.

Despite himself, Dean jumps at the touch. Cas’ hand only exerts the weakest of pressure, and its cooler than it should be. But it’s something.

“You’re dead.” Cas says. No fanfare just weary honesty. His words hit like a punch of ice to the gut and Dean tries his best not to freak. “You’re dead here. My you. I couldn’t…” Cas hiccups. Closes his eyes. Takes a breath and tries again. “I couldn’t save him. From Lucifer. The apocalypse. Any of it.”

He meets Deans gaze, eyes exhausted but full of grim certainty.

“I had to watch you die.”

Dean takes a moment to absorb this. There’s so much he wants to say. So much he wishes he could have said to his own Cas. But right now he’s not the one dying and so he does the only thing he can think of that might make this better for both of them.

“It’s okay Cas.” He says. Squeezes Cas’ shoulder. “I forgive you.”

Cas lets out a broken laugh-sob and turns his face away.

“Hey,” Dean presses, a little pissed that this is the response he’s gotten because dammit he’s trying here. He twists his wrist so he can take Cas’ hand, grips it between both of his in attempt to capture his attention again. Cas tracks the movement sluggishly, a touch of surprise lingering in the back of his eyes. “Look at me you son of a bitch.” Dean commands and Cas squints up at him.

“You’re the bitch.” He deadpans tiredly.

“Shut up.” Dean snaps instinctively, then stops himself and drops his forehead down to their joined hands so he can take a breath. “Cas…” he says. Looks up and meets Cas’ gaze with as much strength as he can muster. “You’re dead too.” Cas says nothing for the longest time, his mouth still trembling with the occasional sob. Dean fills the silence with, “I couldn’t save you either.” And then, “Not from Lucifer. Not from yourself. I had to watch you die too.”

Cas ghosts a smile, grim and sad.

“Ain’t the multiverse a bitch.” He murmurs. “You get to watch me die twice.”

And Dean presses his face into Cas’ side and laughs and laughs until he cries.

 

 

Cas dies slow.

Dean stays.

Not because he thinks he can do anything much to help. But he can damn well make sure that his angel doesn’t have to die alone.

Sam is waiting for him when he finally emerges, nervously shuffling notes and spell ingredients. Dean feels completely hollowed out. Emptied of everything – even grief. In his hand is a tiny glass vial filled with the final scraps of Cas’ grace. Carved out by the angels own hand no less.

_Call it a gift_ , he’d said.

Sam’s eyes linger on it for the longest time, jaw working.

“It’ll uh, really help boost the power behind the spellwork for the final jump.” His voice cracks as he speaks and he clears his throat, but Dean can still hear his brothers unshed tears as he reaches out a hand to take the vial. “And the trip home.”

Dean silently passes it over. Says, simply:

“Let’s go get mom.”

 

_How can I put it down into words_  
 _When it's almost too much for my soul alone_  
  
_I loved and I loved and I lost you_  
 _I loved and I loved and I lost you_  
 _I loved and I loved and I lost you_  
 _And it hurts like hell_  
 _Yeah it hurts like hell_

 

  **+1 I don’t love you, I always will**

It takes almost a fortnight before Dean gets up the stones to say something.

Thankfully, his insomnia comes to the rescue, heinous bitch that it is. This particular bout has been bad enough that three in the morning finds him raiding Sammy’s collection of herbal teas – so help him. The way he feels though, Dean’s willing to try just about anything if he can just get his brain to settle down enough for a few hours of shuteye. His eyelids constantly feel like sandpaper and his limbs are leaden as he slopes into the library trying not to spill his mug of leaf juice.

It takes him a second to register that Cas is already in there. He’s sans trench coat, quietly flicking through a book and Dean’s brain screeches to a halt before he’s even realised that he’s stopped walking. Castiel, bastion of supersonic hearing that he is, merely cranes his head enough to catch sight of Dean in his peripheral vision and rumbles, “Can’t sleep?”

Dean grunts affirmatively and takes a seat at the end of the table, adjacent to where Cas is sitting. They sit in silence for some time, Dean sipping at his tea and trying to pretend that it isn’t burning his tongue and Cas occasionally flipping pages in whatever the hell it is he’s reading.

It’s unusual to find Cas alone nowadays. Jack has been practically glued to his side since they got back – but apparently even Nephilim need to recharge their batteries sometimes. The effort of pulling Sam, Dean and Mary back home after they’d performed close to a hundred universe jumps took a lot out of the kid. He seems to spend a fair bit of his time meditating, or at least semi-unconscious in one of the guest rooms.

That’s been weird too – having to set up a few extra rooms to cater for the sudden influx of people living here full time. With Mary, Jack and Cas, it’s the fullest the bunker has been in a long time. Definitely the fullest it’s been since it’s been lived in by the family Winchester.

It’s kind of horrifyingly domestic and Dean likes it a whole lot more than he thought he would. Except maybe for times like now when he’s waiting on tenterhooks for somebody to interrupt. He manages to last almost five minutes before he can’t stand the waiting and breaks through the comfortable silence that has settled between himself and Cas – albeit tentatively.

“Hey, Cas? Can we…talk?”

He cringes just hearing the words come out of his mouth but Cas simply marks his place and smoothly places his book aside. As Dean fidgets with his cooling mug of tea, Cas props his elbows on the table and leans forward expectantly.

The first thing that Dean blurts out is, “So I’m just gonna preface this by saying that I’m not gay.”

Cas doesn’t even blink.

“Okay.”

“I mean. I turned some tricks in my teens when we ran out of money and I couldn’t get into bars to hustle pool but that doesn’t really count.” Dean realises too late that he’s babbling, bites his tongue and is quickly reminded that taste buds don’t enjoy being gnashed by teeth at the best of times – let alone ones that have just been recently fried by boiling water.

Cas doesn’t seem to notice Dean’s discomfort. He responds with another measured, “Okay.”

And yeah, maybe Dean loses his cool a little bit because Cas _died_ and since he came back he’s been acting like it was no big deal and it is, okay? It’s a big deal that Dean and Sam had to go through all of that crap _again_ only to have Cas turn up and be fine.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” He demands, “Okay?”

Cas shoots an annoyed look at him and sits back in his chair. “I’m not entirely sure what you _want_ me to say.”

Dean tamps down his anger but it’s a near thing. Getting pissed is easy. And that’s not what he’s here for.

“I don’t know if Sam mentioned.” He tries again through gritted teeth, working on keeping his voice level. If Cas notices he doesn’t comment. “But when we were universe hopping trying to find mom and Lucifer we met a few different versions of you.”

“An unsurprising turn of events.” Cas says but he looks thoughtful, one finger absently tracing the edge of the table as he speaks. “I presume you met parallel versions of yourself and Sam as well?”

“Yeah a few. But I more wanted to talk about you.”

“Me?” Cas’ hand stills. “What about me?”

“How about the fact that I watched you die, Cas? That Lucifer skewered you with an angel blade right in front of my face. And then my mom punched him into Apocalypse Now and got them stuck there and I was such a goddamn mess that I could hardly wipe my own ass, let alone go in and rescue her. You know what I kept thinking? Pretty much my only coping mechanism when I’m grieving is to repress everything or break something. I was depressed as hell and probably having like, PTSD nightmares every other day and out of all of that…crap. You know what I finally realised?”

The words came spilling out of Dean like a torrent, unbidden. He pauses only to stare down at his tea and take a quick breath. It’s better than trying to make sustained eye contact with Cas right now. He’s still sitting, diligently paying his attention and Dean is grateful for once for it. That Cas isn’t trying to blow this off with a joke like he probably would have by now if their roles were reversed.

Dean thinks, maybe, he’s finally ready to say his piece and be honest.

“All I’ve ever really wanted.” he says quietly. “Is to have my family all together and safe. I lost all of that in the space of about thirty seconds. And now I’ve got it all back again and…man I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop but at the same time? I’ve got Sam. And mom. I’ve got you. I-” his hand gestures weakly before thudding back down on the table. Dean shakes his head, doesn’t quite laugh as he admits, “Cas. Man, I think this is it for me.”

If Cas looked nonplussed before, he looks totally bamboozled by the direction of the conversation now. “What is?” he asks and Dean gestures awkwardly at their surrounds and then between the two of them.

“This, man. Whatever… _this_ is. All of us in the bunker, eating bacon sandwiches and fighting over the coffee machine and raising Lucifer’s kid to be a good person and you out here when I can’t sleep. I mean, dude. I went on a road trip across the multi-verse and found out that there are parallel worlds out there where we’ve been boning each other since before we kicked Gadreel out of Sam’s head. Or – or where you’ve dedicated your life to watching over me just so I can live a four-walls-white-picket-fence life with Lisa and Ben without the angels screwing with us. I literally met _dozens_ of versions of you – and you know what stayed the same? The thing that was totally constant no matter how much of a dick you were, or how wacky the universe was we were in?”

Cas’ mouth is working but Dean’s still spouting verbal diarrhea now and hell, he’s just gonna come out and say it because life is too damn short and he’s sick of Cas leaving. He’s sick of losing him and maybe, _maybe_ if he can get this out then they might just be better off in the long run.

Both of them.

“I love you. Okay? There, I said it. Neither of us are dying, the world isn’t ending. I love you too.”

A frankly incredible selection of micro expressions cross Castiel’s face in the space of about three seconds. Dean is pretty much a hundred percent sure that when Cas got stabbed by the lance of Michael and confessed his love that it was directed primarily at him. Cas’ silence now is terrifying regardless. That said, the fact that he can read Castiel’s face at all is very telling. The guy used to be so unaware of his own face that he mostly swung between impassive and mildly constipated. Nowadays he’s more human than…

“Dean,” Cas interrupts Dean’s racing thoughts easily. He leans forward onto his elbows again and scrutinises Dean from across the table. “Is this your attempt to enter into a romantic relationship with me?”

Dean’s brain helpfully short circuits at the idea and he blurts out the first assortment of words that race through his head.

“What? No! Maybe? I dunno.” Dean wavers and then curiosity gets the better of him. “Why would you think that I…?”

“Well aside from your obvious attraction to me...” Cas says, so glib that Dean lets loose an offended squawk of protest before realising that he’s at least, in part, joking. Cas’ voice is much gentler when he continues. “What is it that you truly want, Dean?”

Dean thinks for only a second before abruptly pushing to his feet, gesturing for Cas to join him. Cas rises warily and comes to stand opposite Dean, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. Despite his cool exterior, he’s nervous. It almost makes Dean feel a bit less panicked too.

Almost.

It’s easy to open his arm and step into Cas’ personal space. For a fleeting second, Dean considers what it might be like to just plant one on Cas. But honestly that’s a can of worms that he’s is still unpacking and so he goes back to his original plan of tucking his head against his shoulder instead. Cas seems unsure of how to respond at first. He stands stiffly for a bit, but he can’t seem to help but return the embrace. His hands splay out experimentally across Dean’s back and they stand there for a long time. Not saying anything, just holding one another. Cas slowly relaxes. When he finally leans the side of his head against Dean he looses a soft exhale that could very well be a contented sigh. Dean swallows down every instinct he has which is screaming at him to _abort mission, this contact has been too prolonged!_ Instead he deliberately lengthens the embrace. The awkwardness he feels slowly ekes away and is replaced by something else.

Contentment. Happiness even.

“I want you to stay.” He mumbles into Cas’ shoulder. Because apparently he can now say the big ‘L’ word but he’s still freaking about this. “I want you to stay here with me and be a part of my family.”

Cas gently extricates himself from Dean’s arms but they continue to stand very much in each other’s space. Not all that long ago Dean would’ve told himself it made him uncomfortable. Now he kind of just want to hug Cas again which – weird, right?

“As your brother?” Cas asks and Dean winces.

“I’m uh. Not so sure you’re really like a brother to me.”

Cas inclines his head fractionally, thoughtfully. “What then?” he rumbles.

“I think I’m still figuring that one out.” Dean admits. “Maybe we could…try figuring it out together? I mean, I’m not gay, like I said. Not that I haven’t, you know, experimented or whatever. But. I don’t generally…dudes aren’t really my…”

“I’m not really ‘a dude’.”

“No.” Dean agrees. “You’re not. You’re Cas.”

It’s this, more than anything else that seems to resolve Cas. His expression finally relaxes and gives way to a small, almost shy smile.

“C’mere.” Dean says, and loops his arms back around Cas again because honestly, for them actions have always spoken louder than words and they both know it.

From inside his embrace, Cas rumbles, “Is the hugging going to be an ongoing thing?”

“I like hugging.” It might be the least dramatic thing he’s admitted tonight but Dean’s heart thunders in his chest as he admits it. “Didn’t exactly get much in the way of ‘em growing up but I always wanted ‘em.”

“Well.” Cas says. “I guess we’ll figure it all out as we go.”

“Yeah.” Dean returns, chest full to bursting with everything that has transpired. He is the one to break the hug this time, giving Cas a smile despite his exhaustion and the quietly budding hysteria that he doesn’t think will ever leave him entirely. “I guess we will.”

 

  _Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise_  
 _I don't have a choice, but I still choose you_

**Author's Note:**

> Music Credits:  
> He Hit Me It Felt Like A Kiss - Frank Rogala  
> Stranger With the Face of A Man I Loved - Penelope  
> Colour Me In - Damien Rice  
> Lived in Bars - Cat Power  
> Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie  
> Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars


End file.
